Live and Kill
by JonasGrant
Summary: A large portion of the world is dependent on the RDA's importation of Unobtanium, but not all of it, and when Jake Sully manages to force the Corporation off Pandora, the military forces of those free countries are the last hope humanity has to avert an energy crisis. With so much hanging in the balance, can anyone really afford to play nice?
1. Chapter 1

The room was lit by chemical lights only, casting an orange glow over the focused crew of the Gorbachev, electronic buzzing and the low hum of cooling fans filling the empty silence. Flags from a dozen country covered the walls over every console, mostly members of the ex-USSR, but Cuba, Korea and China were also present.

Members of the council had insisted these flags always remain in the Combat Information Center, to remind every soldier on board that, unlike the RDA lapdogs, they were patriots, doing what had to be done for their home country.

Sat in the center of it all, Captain Velasquez was studying the RDA's defeat with great interest.

The Gorbachev had no fancy holographic screens or tri-dimensional displays, all of the funding for it had gone into military hardware and troops, as well as covert protocols to keep their mining operation a secret.

Corporations like the RDA often clashed with free nations such as Russia, China and Venezuela. On Earth, both factions had their hands tied; the RDA lacked the manpower to do more than slow down a real military, but it hugged all the Unobtanium for itself and its allies, mainly the U.S. and European countries, leaving everyone else to struggle with the worst energy crisis in Earth's history.

Covert operations such as the Gorbachev were the only thing that allowed these country to keep the Corporations out of state business. In a way, this ad-hoc assembly of somewhat communist nations was quite close to the old Soviet Union, only not all that socialist in nature, when compared to their precursors.

By Captain Velasquez's side, Major General Konstantin snickered to himself, earning a puzzled look from the Cuban officer.

"A cavalry charge against an entrenched infantry line?" Scoffed the Spetsnaz, "That's so nineteen-hundred…" English had been picked as the default language aboard the Gorbachev, given the massive amount of dialects spoken by its passengers.

Viktor Konstantin led a Spetsnaz Alpha Group detachment, the deadliest fighters aboard the ship, and though he answered to general Bai, leading the Chinese battalion slowly thawing in cryo bays five to fifteen, the Major was given considerable operational freedom.

Captain Velasquez looked up from the tactical display the size of a kitchen table and frowned at Viktor, who looked at it from the other side. The Major was dragging his feet, avoiding the matter as best he could, but, realizing he had to get around to it eventually, cleared his throat and asked, "Has the General said anything?"

Velasquez nodded, blue eyes showing from behind mirror shades that never seemed to leave Cuban officers' faces. "Said you boys should head down there and have a chat with the people still at Hell's Gates."

Konstantin frowned and brought up the supposedly deserted RDA outpost. "There are still people living there?"

To which the other simply shrugged, "Hippies."

"Humans?"

"Avatars." Bad news, Avatars could provide significant firepower and some had spent years on Pandora, they knew the terrain and were adapted to it.

Of course, Viktor's men were far better trained, equipped with actual military grade weapons and none of them had less than a decade of combat experience.

Despite all this, he'd been against open conflict with the RDA and the natives from the start. The best fights are those you avoid completely, as they say, but it went further than simple caution; combat effectiveness aside, he and his Spetsnaz faced many difficulties when deploying to Pandora.

First, the air was saturated and their obsolete gas mask filters would clog up within half an hour, meaning every thirty minutes spent out in the field required them to carry an additional filter instead of ordnance.

Second, the Gorbachev had only two shuttles and they were not exactly cutting edge. Every atmospheric entry had a chance to end in a fireball and they could only fit a limited amount of hardware.

And third, the science teams had warned them time and again that too much stress on the ecosystem could trigger an immune response from the moon itself. Now, Konstantin was ready to keep an open mind, but the thought of a whole planet being sentient had never struck him as anything but nerd-boy fantasies.

General Bai disagreed from the start. Buddhist, what can you expect? Possibly, had Viktor vetoed the General's decision, he could have kicked things in motion much sooner, but there was a nudging doubt, coming from the childish part of his soul. _What if? _

Colonel Quaritch had certainly felt it too, the _what if they were right?_ But as a good soldier, he proceeded with his mission, performed to the best of his ability until the end, until that doubt was confirmed and even then, he attempted to complete his mission. The Gorbachev had seen it all, hidden in the dark, and another commemorative plate was added in the mess hall, alongside dozens of fallen heroes. A small honor for an enemy, whom they considered the only true soldier on Pandora.

All the Na'vi did for him was let a pack of Viperwolves rip his carcass out of the AMP suit and spread it across the jungle.

So much for the whole sanctity of life thing… And now Konstantin had to prep his men to go meet Corporal Sully, an ex-marine who'd pretty much betrayed his country, not to mention his whole race, and they had to make nice with him and his new Neanderthal friends so they wouldn't sic the whole damn biosphere on their asses.

"Sukka… Oooh-kay." Growled the major, reviewing his forces on an arm-mounted holographic tablet.

He walked out of the rotating section and floated across the corridor absent mindedly, struggling to decide whether to bring air support, artillery, armour or transports…

He already had a platoon of "Wolverines", light infantry, and "Ogres", weapon platforms similar to the RDA's AMPs, slated for deployment, and there was just enough room for him to squeeze in some mechanized support.

He reached the heavy gravity area where his troops trained and lived and decided to have Master Sergeant Volkov's T-191 Heavy Tanks. Hell's Gate would provide open areas, and the seventy tons behemoths had little to fear from Avatar drivers, or anything on the planet, really…

His locker opened without problem, revealing grey white and blue camouflage fatigues, which he traded his dress uniform for, followed by thirty pounds of matching ceramic plates coated with carbon fiber.

Just as the RDA used the CARB platform for almost everything, the practically ancient AK platform served the Gorbachev's crew, albeit far more advanced now than it had been at its beginning.

Viktor's rifle looked just like any other guard's; black plastic and metal with a rail on top and another underneath for attachements, in this case, a shotgun and ORACL red dot scope.

The weapon had been baptised AK-47 even though it saw mass production only in 2092. The men just called it, and all its variants, Kalash.

Combat webbings full of fresh magazines would be available once they were past the atmosphere, as all explosives had to be kept in a separate compartment from the troops. A nightmare, really. At least there would be about five minutes for his men to gear up, rearm and refuel the tank and thank whichever god they prayed to for getting them safely through.

Once in the hangar, and back in zero gravity, he personally inspected every last strap and buckle like a paranoid mother short on Prozac as she tucks her kids in for the night.

This greatly amused his men , especially the ones in massive Ogre assault platforms, but nobody said a thing. From Venezuela to Canada, be it in a submarine or an orbital shuttle, Major Konstantin always kept true to that routine; checking every last man, looking him right in the eye one last time before battle. There was something reassuring about it all, not only in the ritual itself, but in the knowledge the their commander cared enough to at least pretend like he cares.

He strapped himself in last, his seat facing the rear of the shuttle. He watched the ramp rise until no light filtered through, then slapped his armoured face mask down, along with the infrared imager. Everyone did the same.

Everyone knew their duty, so there was no need for long briefing or speeches, but spending the ten to fifteen minutes before launch in silence would have been bad for morale, so Viktor spoke, his soft tone closer to an high-school teacher than a Russian Army officer.

"As you all know, as of last week the Resource Development Administration was forced off-planet by a coalition of native clans and what the brass call an immune reaction to human presence, so we are to keep things on the level down there. Should things go bad, you are to fall back to the tanks and provide covering fire while they mop up. Concerns?"

A shadow moved in one of the Ogres, at the end of the left row. "Sir, will the shuttle remain on site?"

Ah, yes, always nice to know your way home is two steps behind… "Negative, should things go wrong, we cannot afford to lose a shuttle, it will only come back once we've cleared the zone."

"Doesn't that amount to a suicide mission, sir?"

The Major's voice hardened slightly, "Your point?" But the Guard decided to drop the issue.

The rest of the time was spent deciding who would do what, taking bets on the outcome and, for the final few minutes, re-reading letters from loved ones.

Finally, the shuttle shook as jet engines ignited and all men raised their hands at once, even those inside Ogres, as though holding glasses that were not really there.

It was all part of the ritual, even the reading of letters, so everyone know exactly what Konstantin meant when he roared over the deafening rumble "Spetsnaz, live and kill for them!"

And they were pummelling down towards Hell's Gate.


	2. Chapter 2

Lights flashed green along the floor and ceiling and everyone sprung into action; tank crews jumped in their vehicles to fire up all systems, Ogres stood there with their arms parted as Wolverines loaded them full of ammunition and spare gear, while the Guards themselves strapped on pre-filled combat webbings, trading shotgun shells and grenades depending on what attachment they carried.

Having the Ogres along was a must, a luxury Konstantin hadn't been able to give up since Kosovo, when the things saw their first deployment, nearly fifty years back. Unlike the RDA's AMPs, Ogres carried on-board weapons in the form of a Vulcan 20mm rotatory cannon on the left shoulder and caseless 5mm LMGs build into the forearms. Its massive talons lacked the dexterity of an AMP's hands, but they would still dig a trench faster than ten Guards could.

Once all of his troops were outfitted and with fifteen seconds left, Viktor grabbed himself a webbing from the reinforced compartment built in the floor and quickly fastened the straps around his waist, chest and thighs. The two tanks would pour out first, to clear the way and give something solid for his men to hide behind, and their crew were already firing the massive diesel engines.

As he looked at the Heavy Battle Tanks, Konstantin wondered if it had been wise to bring such monsters in a diplomatic mission. The things bristled with weapons, their dark green and black camouflage and V blades attached to the front gave them a nightmarish appearance.

But then the ramp dropped, revealing a vast field of concrete, and Major Konstantin had other things to worry about than spooking a bunch of tree huggers.

Cheap concrete cracked under the T-191s, ground to fine dust in four parallel lines that bloomed ten meters out as the armoured vehicles positioned themselves back to back, to cover each other's weak spot.

Combat boots hammered that dust further and the tanks were soon swarmed by Spetsnaz in combat gear, like blue and grey fire ants assaulting a pair of very angry turtles.

Every shooter was aiming at the RDA facility, forty meters ahead, but Ogres positioned themselves at the edges of the cluster, watching over the formation's flanks.

The walls were still standing and, as the shuttle lifted off, the Russians were greeted with more concrete and steel at their back. The natives had gone in through the front door, it wasn't even a fight.

On Viktor's map, the facility showed up as a pentagon with his troop occupying the top right edge and the control center standing in the middle. A bit to the right of it were the barracks and vehicle storage. All other facilities were irrelevant at this time.

He pointed to Lieutenant Morokov and, with a sharp hand gesture, sent him and his men to the barracks, along with two Ogres, while he himself took sixteen Wolverines and an Ogre to the control room, leaving the task of establishing a perimeter to Colonel Popov.

Normally, as a two star officer, Konstantin would have stayed back and given orders from a safe distance, but it was impossible on Pandora, communications simply weren't reliable enough.

Of course, he stayed back as his men breached the command center and only stepped into the airlock when told to by an officer at least five ranks underneath him. This was not a question of skill or rank, these men had learned to work together, they functioned as a family and the introduction of a new member would have impeded their combat effectiveness.

They cleared ground level in a minute and split into four groups to cover the whole facility faster. Viktor stayed with those headed for the top of the tower. If anyone really lived here, they'd be up there, looking out the giant bay windows to figure out what the hell is going on.

The door was already wide open when they reached the top of the stairs and, standing in the middle of the room were three Avatars with heavy machine guns pressed to their shoulders and dressed like Dian Fossey. Deciding against the use of knockout gas, Viktor made his way up the file and tapped a Corporal on the shoulder to take his place by the door.

A career Sergeant was on the other side, loading his Saiga semi-automatic shotgun with high-spread buckshot. A slight shake of the Major's head caused the other man's shoulder to drop in disappointment.

Viktor knocked on the door frame and, after a few seconds, poked his head around the corner.

"Hello… I am…" 7.62mm rounds pinged off the railing at his back, ricocheting off the walls and clipping the soldiers who were still down the stairs. The burst lasted five seconds, after which Konstantin just growled to himself before speaking again, from cover this time "Tak-tak-tak-tak… Okay, here's what will happen, boys, I'm going to enter this room now, something shoots me, I kill it. It kills me, the tanks outside will kill it, your move."

And he stepped out, facing three weapons normally meant to be mounted on combat helicopters.

Nobody shot him, but they did not lower their weapons. "Who the fuck are you?" Asked the only female, from the right.

"Major General Konstantin, Spetsnaz Alfa group." No point in hiding it, they were race traitors anyway, it's not as if they could go tell the Allied Nations about Russian soldiers taking over their mining operation.

"A Major?" One of the men, the one in the middle, spoke, dubious, "Why would the Russian send… How many? Two hundred guys?"

Fishing for information? Already Good, then the show could get started.

"Major General, "Corrected Konstantin, smiling under his mask, "that's division level, chuvak."

The girl turned to her companion with a puzzled look. His face had gone pale and he could not articulate an answer, so she asked directly to the Major, "What, that's big?"

"We took Kosovo in twelve days with half that."

Not to say he commanded fifteen thousand Spetsnaz, but he let them think so, for entertainment and intimidation purpose.

"W-w-w… What are y-y-y-you doing here?" The last member stuttered rather pitifully.

"Same we've been doing for the last decade; providing Unobtanium to countries free of corporate influence. Used to be we stole it for the RDA, but since you threw them out, it seems we'll have to step in."

The woman licked her lips and her ears flattened like and angry cat's. "You mean… You can't do that! We won!" She sounded like a child complaining about the unfairness of a game, "You think you can just come here and take up where they left?! We beat them, we'll beat you as well!"

"Izvinite, but you can't..." He pointed at the tanks through the windows, but before he could continue, she laughed bitterly.

"Steel and bombs won't stop Eywa, nothing can stop Eywa!"

With a sigh, Viktor walked up to the window, conscious that there was a full squad of Wolverines ready to tear these monkeys apart at a single command.

"Look at us, chuvak, we're not mall cops, you've never faced anything like Russian Spetsnaz before, don't fool yourself. We won't retreat, we won't surrender and we won't turn over to the enemy. All of the men here abandoned Earth for a shit pay they probably won't get to spend, because they believe in this mission." He turned and leaned back, his backpack pressing against reinforced glass. "You can't stop us, we'll burn this whole moon in nuclear fire if that's what it takes, we just want the rock…"

She went to protest, but he silenced her with a sudden hand gesture. The Sergeant leaned out from his cover, realized the Major was merely lifting his finger to emphasise his point and begrudgingly returned to cover. "But, we're not the RDA, and that's the important part, we don't answer to shareholders and are not looking to make a profit." He fetched a small Russian flag from his pocket and held it out for them to see. "You work with us, we'll control the Unobtanium market and nobody will set foot on this planet unless we say so. Throw us out and, when the RDA comes back, they'll burn every square centimeter of jungle from orbit."

The three conversed in some gibberish, probably a Na'vi dialect, for a whole minute and Viktor was just stuffing the flag back in his pocket when something exploded on the runway. An Ogre, hit by an incendiary missile fired from the refinery.

It took Viktor a moment to understand. The three had not been talking amongst themselves, they were speaking in small radios on their necks, coordinating the ambush while he was busy trying to make peace.

Tall blue aliens emerged from the jungle, fell from the sky and jumped out of every corner to fire arrows and stolen weapons at the Spetsnaz on the runway.

Missiles flew from both sides and Konstantin looked back to the three Avatars in time to see them open fire in his direction. The shots were inaccurate, but they filled the air with enough lead to poison a small town.

Five direct impacts forced the officer backward and through the window.

The thing shattered rather dramatically but none of the sub-standard ammunition got through and Viktor was up in time to see blood gush out of the woman's neck, courtesy of the Sergeant by the door. The man with speech impediment tried to avenge his friend, but was interrupted by a five rounds burst from Konstantin's Kalash. The last Avatar was decapitated by sniper fire from another platoon.

From the catwalk, Viktor could see everything, and it did not look good. The natives had Anti-Air, meaning no shuttle retrieval.

"Davaii! Davaii!" Boomed the Major, shouldering his AK from a prone position to cover the troops down by the runway, "I want sniper fire on the refinery! Volkov," his radio whined with interference, but the man responded soon after, "Bumblebees, fire at will, everything but the tower and barracks!"

Clusters of rocket tubes spun to target the Na'vi climbing out of the jungle and hiding in the facility itself, saturating impact areas with a foul smelling gas. The natives hesitated a bit before charging right through the clouds, unhindered. Then there was a spark and there was silence.

Forty fuel air explosive went off at once, shattering bodies like ragdolls, sweeping structures away and popping the eardrums of anything within twenty meters of the blast.

The Na'vi pulled out of sight, bringing their wounded along. Just as the Major had warned them, they were not prepared to face special forces, but the speed at which they understood that and broke off went beyond anything he had ever seen. These apes were fast learner for sure.

All section leaders requested permission to pursue, but he denied them.

Getting back up, Viktor cringed at the damage caused to the mining equipment, but noticed with satisfaction that there were barely any wounded, the heavy body armours having done their job.

"My prishli s mirom, suka." He'd have spat on the ground, were it not for his gas mask.

The sergeant, his Saiga at the ready, scoffed at the quote. It was from Mars Attack, what the invaders had said before going on a killing spree.

The natives would try and ask their goddess for help as soon as the word reached them… Or perhaps it already had… How had they set up an ambush mere minutes after the Spetsnaz landed?

No matter, their next task was self-evident; the tree of souls had to burn, and fast.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Just a note, I'm not rooting for the RDA here, quite the opposite, the Coalition represents Communism, the RDA is Capitalism (Fascism, to a degree) and the Na'vi would be... I don't know, spiritualism? Religion? Whatever you want to call it, they are three ends of the spectrum, just like Quaritch, Augustine and Selfridge represented three sides of human greed (Will for power, will for knowledge and will for wealth.) **

**The Coalition isn't out to get rich, they're driven by near fanatical patriotism. Let's see what happens.**

Andreï Popov had worked with Major General Konstantin many times before, but never on Pandora. Usually, missions on the moon's surface were left to either the Colonel himself or one of his section leaders, depending on the job, and it was as if a hundred pounds were lifted from his shoulders when the Major announced Colonel Popov would handle offensive operations.

Viktor had been on Pandora a few times as well, but never on offensive missions and this required an experienced leader. It took Popov exactly five minutes to think of a plan:

Samson transport helicopters had been abandoned on the runway, they were rather flimsy and unreliable compared to the Russian Ka-69 "Krokodil" but much faster and quieter. They'd do.

He took four, all loaded with six men including the pilots, and they took off thirty minutes after the ambush. The twenty four Spetsnaz didn't ask any questions as they took their places, a few joked about bringing one of the VTOLs back as a trophy or gifts for their nephews, but there were no complaints and they all listened to the Colonel's briefing carefully.

While they did have to sever the native's connection with Eywa before deploying any significant mining operation, it was unlikely the Na'vi would use their ace card right away, so this was no race against the clock, they simply had to make their way to… A civilian population, with children, women and elderly. Then they would drop in, guns spewing flechette ammunition fit to penetrate five inches of metal plating or automatic 40mm grenade launchers loaded with fuel air explosives.

The Samson shook as it rose off the pad, a violent impact that caused its pilot to jolt in his seat and look back to see the Colonel's fist imbedded in the ceiling.

"What's wrong, boss?"

Popov's face remained hidden behind his mask as he spoke to his men in all four VTOLs via helmet coms, so to everyone, even those next to him, the voice seemed distant, drowned in the past.

"I've been a soldier all my life, most of you enlisted out of college, but I started out almost a century ago." With cryo sleep and the numerous skirmishes on distant planets, many Spetsnaz were born during the twenty first century, back when there were still trees and people could eat things other than algae.

The nostalgia was obvious in Popov's voice, hitting his men like a freight train, "I did things in my life no man should ever have to do, killed so… So many… Things… My papa used to take me hunting, one day, I shot a bear, a mother with babies… I will forever remember his eyes, the disappointment."

Some of the youngest members were growing restless, kept silent only by their iron discipline, but most Spetsnaz knew what their leader tried to say. They let him carry on anyway, everyone watching the jungle unfold under their boots.

"There is no honour in murder, we do it because it has to be done..." He laughed bitterly, "If diplomacy worked, we'd all be drinking beer on a beach right now. Sometimes, however, all it takes is a few brave souls willing to try a little harder, to take the hard road…" He giggled softly, then spoke, this time louder, more commanding, "Now, where will you find braver men than Spetsnaz?"

The men cheered at this odd speech, unsure what this would mean for their mission. Andreï clarified a few seconds later, "Opa! That's my boys! Now, what do you say we have a chat with Corporal Sully?"

The men were not thrilled, but there were no objections.

Which was more than Viktor, back at Hell's Gate, could say about General Bai's leadership.

The man had taken a shuttle and three platoons down to personally oversee the takeover, never bothering to warn Major Konstantin nor ask him for his opinion. The man just climbed down a shuttle meant to be full of supplies and started yelling orders in Chinese.

Viktor did the same from the control tower, but without power cells, which were supposed to arrive on that shuttle, they could not reboot the base's electronic infrastructure. This was all nothing but a pile of expensive junk. In the meantime, he had his men patrol the compound while T-191s and Ogres used flame throwers to dispose of the Na'vis' bodies.

General Bai had a similar idea and sent his troops in the armory, to see what they could salvage, before making his way up the tower, where he was greeted by a Russian Sergeant with a Saiga demanding to see some identification papers.

This infuriated the General as much as it amused Viktor, but the Major kept a straight face under his mask. Both officers saluted each other and the Russian braced himself for what would come next.

"Major General." The man's accent and crisp behavior cause Viktor's fists to tighten hard enough for his gloves to groan.

"General."

"Care to explain why your men opened fire at the refinery?"

He almost laughed. Just the Refinery? Hell, they had wrecked the place up worse than a bunch of frat boys on spring break could! "The enemy was entrenched there," Viktor explained, still standing straight as a rod, as if parading, "They hoped to draw us in close combat. I refused to take the bait and had them flushed out."

Only half true, he hadn't thought of it that way at the time, but it made sense retrospectively.

"Do you know why we are here, Vik?" The General's tone was playful as he walked up to the shattered window, hands locked behind his back.

"Refining is not relevant, we just have to send the rocks back home, they'll handle the rest."

"True, but refining on site would have allowed us to send more." The General spoke with the unflinching certitude of a scholar, a thing he wasn't, but Viktor kept that remark to himself, just as he refrained from objecting the nickname 'Vik'.

He wanted to point out they would get more than they ever had anyway, to warn the General against greed. Nothing came out of his mouth because his eyes were taking up all of his brain's processing power.

Ignoring the General, he stepped out, on the catwalk, and squinted at the horizon.

"Is something the matter, Major?"

Turning around and up, he yelled at the roof, in Russian, "Snayper, zdes' i seychas!" and a pair of shimmering silhouettes rippled before handing him a rifle large enough to be a tank-mounted machine gun.

Viktor shouldered the weapon and peeked down its scope. "Blyat… Looks like…" He thrust the rifle on Bai's chest. "Here, am I going insane, is this cloud over there fly against the wind?"

The general peeked in, following Viktor's exact directions, and found the white dot on the horizon. It remained in place, just above the skyline, over the treetops. Around it, slivers of evaporated water drifted lazily to the south, but it refused to move.

They handed the sniper his weapon back and stared at each other in silence for a moment. Whoever that was, they either didn't use coms or used a type the Gorbachev couldn't intercept. Both made no sense and had worrying implications.

In the end, Bai sighed and unhooked a tight-beam communicator from his chest. "Velsaquez, we're not alone here, keep an eye out for stealth vessels…" He threw a glance a Viktor, who nodded once, "And thaw everyone out, I want all the men we can get down here as soon as possible. Bai out."

Konstantin switched filters, taking a moment to carefully screw the new one in place, and began setting up guard duties, patrol patterns and supply allocation on his arm mounted terminal.

Soon, this place would be very crowded. Hopefully, Korean, Cuban, Chinese and Venezuelan troops would get along on the long term, back on the ship they were kept separate with the vast majority in cryo.

Nobody would pick fights with his Spetsnaz, however, so that really was none of his concerns.

On the plus side, Alpha Group would soon be whole again! Not some half assed task force shoved in a shuttle, the whole detachment; tanks, missile launchers, artillery trucks, personnel carriers, gunships, heavy VTOLs and enough Ogres and Wolverines to take over a small country.

That made the Major General as happy and exuberant as a twelve year old at his first date.


End file.
